


In the End

by Kyoshu_Koi



Series: Klance Week 2016 [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7694653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyoshu_Koi/pseuds/Kyoshu_Koi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd do this. He'd kill Lance, collect the payment, and move on with his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the End

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6: Hero/Villian

"Dios mío, Keith, I'm gonna kill you."

Keith's eyes shot open, adrenaline pumping past his veins as a single line shot through his head: 'your cover’s blown.' He sucked in a steady breath and sat up, pressing a cold, indifferent mask to his face.

"What?" he slurred sleepily, even though he couldn't be any more awake.

Lance stormed into the room, shaking an empty carton, "Did you or did you not use the last of the milk?"

Keith blinked. He vaguely remakes pouring a glass to finish off the last of the Oreos. "Uhh," he drawled, finding purchase in one of the many pictures on the walls.

"Keeiiitthhhh," Lance groaned, tossing the carton behind him.

It missed the trash by a good two feet. Keith snorted as it clunked to the ground. Lance made a sound of frustration and put it in the bin himself.

"I wanted to have some Paladin PuffsTM," he grumbled, "now I can't."

Keith rolled his eyes, getting up off the couch. He glanced around until he found his Mac, still open and on the coffee table near his head. He'd been writing a paper last night if he remembered correctly.

Hopefully he'd actually finished it.

"You don't need milk to have cereal."

"Unlike you," Lance huffed, "I'm not an uncultured swine who'll down a breakfast as dry as my physics professors skin."

Keith groaned. God, Lance was such an idiot. "Tell me again why I love you?" Keith asked. He flinched suddenly as the words came out but was quick to cover it, flashing Lance an innocent smile.

 _'Keep up your cover,'_ Keith thought, _'You only have three days left, don't let it slip.'_

Lance grinned, face flush with embarrassment. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" Even when he was blushing he was still cocky.

Keith smiled again and got up, stretching enough for his back to pop. "I'm gonna change, I have class in..." Lance held out his wrist, watch facing toward Keith. The said boy quickly read it and cursed, "An hour and a half."

He started for his room, only for Lance to pounce, wrapping his arms around Keith's waist and snuggling into his shoulder. "Never saw me coming," Lance boasted.

Keith held back a scoff.

He could've heard Lance even if there was a howling goose between them. The guy’s footsteps were way too loud, not to mention his breathing was deep and the apartments floorboards creaked with every movement he made.

Not like Lance needed to know about that, though. If he did then it'd make it harder for Keith to finish the job.

He leaned back into Lances chest with a wince.

The feeling would pass once he killed him, Keith knew that. He'd gotten close to a few of his victims before and here he was, still in the murder business.

Lance Sanchez wasn't going to be any different.

Keith turned in Lance’s arms and gave him a quick peck on the lips, "I've gotta change, babe."

Lance frowned but let Keith go, calling after him that the snuggle war wasn't over. Keith rolled his eyes as flipped Lance off as he strolled down the hallway and towards his room. 

He shut the door and took in a shaky breath.

Three days. That's all Lance had left with him, and all Lance had left in general.

It was a simple mission - Keith had most of the parts laid out already: Student at the same college? Check. In need of a roommate? Check? As straight as a circle? Double check. All he'd had to do was play his cards right, get the target to fall for him, then tear him down when he least suspected it.

Keith'd done it so many times before, he'd been conning and killing since the seventh grade, for crying out loud; this should've been child's play.

But it wasn't.

He'd fallen too hard for Lance. For his smile and his stories and his shitty nicknames that changed every other day (Keith still liked babe the best, to be quite honest).

And now he was stuck killing a boyfriend that he was actually committed to.

* * *

The next night he crawled out the window, following Lance on his daily patrol.

Keith watched as his boyfriend froze a few dealers, stopped some murders, and shadowed of a group of girls that were being followed closely by a truck - which somehow had broken down after all its gas miraculously turned to ice.

He stayed with Lance as he went from ally to ally, from shop to shop, all the way from the south side to the north side and even to their school’s campus.

If Lance was anything, he was thorough; Keith'd figured that out within his first week on this job.

It wasn't until an hour had passed and Lance was quickly resting in an empty back street that Keith dropped down near him, feet quiet as feathers in water against the blacktop.

He drew his gun, surprised for a quick second that he wasn't shaking. He knew everything was muscle memory at this point, knew that, even if his mind was quaking in its imaginary boots, his body would still be calm.

He'd get over this.

He'd kill Lance just like he killed everyone else. He'd move on and things would be fine.

Keith sucked in a quiet breath, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger. The shot went off, silencer muffling the noise.

And then the familiar crack and hiss of Lance’s powers blew through his ears, alongside a hiss of "hijo de-,” and Keith peeled his eyelids open and stared down at a livid Lance.

"Who the hell are you?" He snapped.

Keith blinked down at him, his mind whirling behind his mask of emotion - or lack thereof. It took a few seconds for Lance’s words to actually hit him. He suppressed a snort. Like he'd be stupid enough to respond.

Lance would recognize his voice even if it gone through a blender.

Lance glared even harder and kicked at the stem holding Keith's frozen bullet up. It came crashing down like a piece of glass, metal splintering into a million pieces.

How intimidating…

"You gonna answer me, bub?" Lance asked, eyes raking over what he could see. Keith was decked out in all black, not to mention he was standing in the shadows. Lance wouldn't even be able to figure out if he was tall or not.

He knew what Lance was doing though: he was checking Keith out to see if he was a threat to the city, just like the _stupid_ hero he was.

"We're doing this the annoying way, then," Lance hissed when Keith didn't respond.

Keith scowled.

Why'd he have to go and become the ‘next Batman?’ Why couldn't he have gone into the police force or something if he wanted to help random ass citizens? Everything would've been so much easier.

He'd come out of all of this alive if he had. He would’ve died at an old age with someone who truly loved him, someone who didn’t just pretend to care or throw on a mask of affection. Lance had the opportunity for that good life, that life of bliss and happiness. Then he decided to blow it with his crazy good morals and freakish powers.

Now he was going to get slaughtered by the person he trusted the most, and Keith couldn’t hate himself more for that.

And then Lance’s foot was connecting with the ground and the escape Keith was standing on was suddenly frozen and - shit! Bad timing for the Thought Train!

Keith jumped off, grabbing a random pipe and scaling it to the top of the building. He took off towards the opposite side of town, not wanting to lead Lance on in the least.His boyfriend followed, shooting swears and jagged pieces of ice at Keith as he ran.

They kept at the cat and mouse game for at least ten minutes before Keith got desperate - damn those fucking _powers_ \- and decided to jump off the apartment complex. He grabbed a few pipes, arms nearly yanking out of their sockets as he scrambled for a foot hold.

He didn't find one in time, though, and Lance shot an over-glorified ice cube at him.

Keith swore under his breath and jumped, landing on the much, much lower roof of a random restaurant. He tucked into a ball and rolled to absorb as much impact as he could.

He ducked through a window, yanked his jacket off and shoved it into the trash before sneaking out the back. He glanced up at the roof as he quickly merged with the thinned midnight crowds, watching as Lance landed and looked around.

Keith let out a sigh of relief as Lance turned around and headed the way they came, waiting at least a half an hour before circling back to the apartment himself.

* * *

Lance crawled into Keith's bed the next morning, humming something about a late night shift and a cold bed.

Keith didn't mind, he liked feeling Lance next to him. The boy might've been part giant, but he always curled up into a small ball, almost like a cat, not to mention the fact that he was an organic heater. Keith sighed, adjusting slightly to the sudden presence a hundred something pounds dropping onto his chest.

Lance curled their feet together, since his were always cold for some odd reason -coughpowerscough -, and shifted a bit.

Keith winced as his leg was jerked slightly to the side. For the first time in forever, Lance actually noticed. He frowned and pulled away from where he was snuggling Keith's neck, worry evident on his face.

"What happened, babe? You hurt?"

Keith shook his head, "I'm good."

Lance just looked at him, "Keith?"

The said boy bit his lip. What was he supposed to say: I fell off a building dodging an icicle you chucked at me? Yeah, not gonna happen. So Keith did the thing he did best: he lied.

"I slipped on the stairs in the English wing today. Messed up my ankle a bit."

Lance tried to sit up, a flash of quick fear swiping across his face, but Keith grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back down, planting his mouth on Lance's. "I'm okay," he said once he pulled back.

"How do you know?" Lance asked. He was calmer than before, Keith's lips did that to him, but there was still worry laced through his voice. "Did you go to the doctor?"

"There was a pre-med student nearby," Keith lied through his teeth. "He checked it out, said I just rolled it."

Lance nodded - obviously relieved - then scowled. "He?"

Keith sighed, placing a quick kiss on Lance's lips. He was always quick to get jealous. "Don't worry, babe."

"I have every right to worry about some random ass stealing mi amor away," Lance huffed.

The words slammed into Keith's chest, sucking the oxygen from his lungs like mosquito on steroids. Keith might not be fluent in Spanish, but he wasn't stupid. Everyone knew what mi amor meant, it fell it the same category of basic as 'si' and 'hola.'

And Keith couldn't believe what he'd heard.

He'd been called nicknames by those he’d murdered, been told 'I love you' by targets before – after all, it was natural to get close to the people he'd be killing – but he'd yet to hear any of it from Lance.

It was suddenly hard to breathe. The air was way too thin and his lungs were too small and his mouth was way to dry and -

"Keith?" Lance asked, voice wavering a bit. Keith sucked in a shaky breath and reached up to run at his burning eyes.

It hurt. It hurt like fucking hell. But Keith was used to pain.

"Say it again," he whispered.

Lances face drew together in confusion for a few seconds before realization smacked into him like a fly swatter. He grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Didn't know you were into that kinda stuff."

Keith winced. "Please?" he asked, desperate. He needed to hear it, needed to know if it was true or if it was just a slip up.

Lance smiled and sighed softly, pulling the smaller boy closer and planting a kiss on his forehead. "Mi amor," he whispered, followed by the softest, quietest declaration of love Keith had ever heart.

Keith felt his heart shatter.

* * *

He snuck out that night, once again following Lance out on patrol. He didn't really know why he did it, it was more muscle memory than anything.

He'd already thrown on his clothes, strapped on his weapons, and jumped out the window before his mind even caught up to what he was doing.

Keith knew he had to do this, he'd spent a year on this mission, spent a year of his life and his career dedicated the Lance Sanchez and his death.

He swung from roof to roof, head spinning as he realized he was doing this, he was really doing this, Lance had told him he'd love him and how he was going to murder him and -

Keith caught sight of his target and dropped down, landing soundless on the pavement behind Lance.

He drew his gun the same moment a car horn honked in the distance.

Lance whirled around, jumpy from the sudden noise, and gasped at the sight of the dark figure, throwing an arm up to attack.

Keith swore, cocking his pistol and aiming straight for Lances heart. _'Don't do this, don't do this, don't d-'_

But his body moved before his mind did, finger yanking hard on the trigger.

BAM-CRACK!

Shit, he did forgot the silencer. How the fuck did he forget the silencer?

Keith glanced up from her gun.

Lance stared wide eyes at the frozen bullet hovering inches from his heart. Both boys stood still, silence crashing over them in waves.

Then Keith was shooting round after round at Lance, bullets digging into the wall of ice he'd thrown up. Keith flinched with every shot, the noise crawling deeper and deeper in his chest as the count dragged up.

He quickly tucked his gun in its holster, drawing his knife on the same movement.

 _'What are you doing?'_ He feinted one way then ducked the other, sliding around Lances makeshift shield.

_'Stop.'_

He slashed at Lances chest, hesitating slightly when a look of desperation flashed across Lance's face.

_'Stop.'_

But it gave Lance enough time to jerk away, and the tip of Keith's only grazed across lances chest, ripping through his shirt and drawing a thin line of blood.

_'Stop!'_

Lance gasped at the sting and stumbled back.

Keith jumped at the chance, his mind screaming obscenities at his muscles as he elbows Lance hard in the chest.

_'You need to stop now!'_

Keith swiped at Lance's feet in that same moment. The taller boy dropped. Keith grabbed Lance's hands, shoving them above his head. He brought his knife up, holding it to Lance's neck. His arm was shaking; his whole body was shaking.

He leaned down, putting pressure against Lance's jugular. His wrist was tensed up; his arm was in the right position.

One flick, one movement and it'd be over and Lance would be dead and Keith would get paid and move on and -

_'Stop! You're gonna kill him!'_

\- And then Lance was smacking their foreheads together in desperation. And then Keith was yanking his head back. And then his hood was falling from his face and the clouds were shifting away from the moon as they created an influx of light. And then Lance's face was twisting in horror and shock and betrayal and -

"Keith?"

**Author's Note:**

> fuck don't kill me!


End file.
